


Sanctuary

by Kokorokirei



Series: June Pride Oneshots 20Gayteen [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Fareeha, Alpha/Omega, Emotional, F/F, June Pride Oneshots, NSFW, Omega Angela, Omegaverse, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:32:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kokorokirei/pseuds/Kokorokirei
Summary: Sometimes it is too much. The strain of war is too much on the soul. In these kinds of nights, Fareeha and Angela share and remind each other of their love and motivation to keep on fighting. Usually, words are rare but the sensations are real.





	Sanctuary

Sometimes, it is too much to handle. The fighting is always the most draining source of energy. The physical state can only take so much strain. A human body is mortal, not immortal. Everyday, it is the same thing. A mission is assigned. Agents are put into teams. The locations differs from time to time but the routine is always the same. Fight. Fight. Fight. Take down the enemy. Defeat them. Move the damn payload. Escort the damn payload. Talon is here. Talon is there. An agent needs healing. An agent needs aerial support. An agent needs assistance.

 

It is easy to become a machine. Your body feels numb. The attacks, the shooting, and the violence become a part of this everyday routine. It is sickening. Your skin gets use to the feeling of dried blood as it accumulates throughout the mission. The strain in your muscles become easier to ignore as you push yourself through the battlegrounds. Sometimes your body takes over and the instincts start to consume you. Killer instincts. Those are the worst.

 

Are we human? I have asked myself that question before. Each time it is answered, I feel more alive. I feel more determine, more confident, and more protective. I have a reason to fight. I have a reason to go through this everyday. It is more than protecting the innocent, that will always be my motivation. Yet there is someone that I want to protect more. When I get on that battlefield, I fight for her. I fight to make sure she smiles when she sees me return back from the mission. The Angel of Overwatch. Mercy. Doctor Angela Ziegler.

 

She knows that it is too much to handle. She knows it all too well. For years, she has watched patients die or live under her hands. The responsibility to handle life itself, it is a cursed gift. Under her hands, she is burdened with the agonizing pressure of a lingering and imminent death. It is so easy. One mistake, one lazy forgetful mistake, and a life is snuffed from her hands. Then comes the guilt. Then comes the self-doubt. Then comes the agony.

 

We both know how much life is so precious, but sometimes we become too numb to handle it. It becomes a dreary struggle to keep doing what we do. Sometimes it is easy to just let everything go. Just don’t shoot. Or shoot like crazy. Just cut the vein. Or don’t bother with trying to go through a surgery that has a low probability of survival.

 

But we can’t. Because we are human. On certain nights, we remind each other of what makes us feel alive. Each other. We have each other. The bond between us consist of nothing but love and respect. Through these heartfelt nights, we remind each other that we fight for each other. We live because we want a future. We get through our missions just so we can have a chance at something...normal. 

 

A chance for a child. A chance for a home. A chance for a family.

 

Angela and I walk through the halls of Watchpoint Gibraltar after dinner. She holds my hand, using her thumb to trace along the thin scars on my hand. Angela walks a bit ahead of me, pulling my arm a bit as we make our way down to her room. She would look back, gaze at me through her blue eyes, and smile. I smile in return. She’s infectious that way. 

 

We don’t talk much but she would happily sigh as she guided me through the door of her room. My hands are already going forward to grab her hips. She giggles as I pull her against my body. The door is shut, leaving us alone in this private sanctuary.

 

Words aren’t usually spoken on these kinds of nights. We just want to feel. 

 

She crashes her lips against mine, I groan as I feel her pink lips part open for me. I slid my tongue inside her mouth, tasting and exploring. Our tongues dance, hungry for each other. We both moan into this fevered kiss, wanting nothing but to memorize the taste of each other and how we feel. Angela’s hands are already untangling the belt I wore. I can hear the clinks as she pries them apart. My hands intertwined with her blonde hair, pulling her closer to me as I kissed harder.

 

Angela’s hands are tugging my jeans down. I hiss as her hands start to wildly cup against my crotch. I can feel the blood race down to my hardening cock, eliciting a moan into Angela’s mouth when she outlines my shaft through my boxers with her fingers.

 

My hands start to tug my shirt off. Angela is fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. We break the kiss only for me to rip the shirt off of my body. My hands tugged my sports bra off, luckily I wore a clasp. Angela was around the last few buttons when she grew frustrated and just tore them apart. The blouse was removed and Angela tore off the camisole underneath it. She didn’t wear a bra under it.

 

I kick my jeans off of my legs. I bend down a bit, still focusing on kissing Angela, so I could undo the buttons of her jeans. With her aid, we slid her jeans down her legs. Once she kicked them off, I grabbed her thighs and she jumped into my embrace. She moans a bit louder as she hungrily kisses me, digging her hands into my hair. I carry her to the bed, dropping her on it. 

 

Laying on the bed, I start to tug down her underwear along her legs. They fly off easily. She is busy tugging my boxers down. Angela broke the kiss to take a moment. Her chest is heaving up and down, her blue eyes filled with lust, and she smiles at me as she caresses my cheeks. 

 

“I love you, Fareeha.” She says, sighing as if it broke a curse on her heart. I lean in to peck her on the lips before I responded.

 

“I love you too, Angela.” I whisper. She beams, her eyes sparking as she lets out a small giggle. 

 

Those are the only words shared for a while. Our bodies take over. I palm her perky breast, rolling them and squeezing them in my hands. The hard pink nipples are left out in the open. My tongue lapped them, swirling them with the tip of my tongue. Meanwhile, her hands are busy jerking my cock. Her finger rub against the slit, making m hiss. I gently bit a nub to make her squeak.

 

Her fingers dug into my hard cock, eliciting a small amount of wetness to ooze out. She purrs as she grips my cock and moves her hand, up and down, in slow rhythms. My hips unconsciously buck forward and back, along with her rhythm. 

 

My hands drift down her stomach. I lift my head to kiss her again, swallowing her gasps and pants as my hands urged her legs apart. My fingers are coated in her essence, beckoning me inside. With one finger, I easily slip inside. She whimpers, biting my lower lips.

 

It was easily to slide in and out with just one finger so I pushed in a second finger. At the same time, she began to increase the pace of jerking me off. My cock began to grow more slippery as she spread my wetness along the shaft. It was easier for to increase the rhythm.

 

For a small while, we just did this. Our lips moved along each other, breaking and masking our moans and our whimpers. Our hands grew a bit weary, our cores grew more with desires. Yet we enjoyed this moment of just touching each other, ingniting the flames within us.

 

She spread her legs a bit wider. Her hands was lining my cock with her entrance, a silent urge for me to move on. I took my fingers out. I linger them near her lips and she eagerly sucked my fingers, getting a taste of herself. Her blues eyes watched me as I watch her suck my fingers clean. When she was done, she smiles. Her hands had made their way onto the small areas on my back. She applied pressure, urging me to go.

 

The tip of my cock was met with a tightness that reminded me of our first time. That connection that would remind us of how compatible we are. Her walls eagerly parted, letting me slide in easily. Once our cores touched, her walls happily tighten around me. I can hear her moaning, muttering my name like a mantra.

 

My hips pulled back and pushed in. The length of my shaft was twitching in the exposed air when I pulled out. When I pushed in, it was like a satisfying burn took over. Angela’s legs wrapped around my waist, beckoning me along with the heel of her foot.

 

I raised myself so I could get a good look at Angela’s face. I love watching the way her face distorts in pleasure. She gets embarrassed by it and she covered her face with her arms. I gently pry her arms off, smiling down at her. Her mouth would part when I pushed in roughly, and her eyes would widen when I increased the pace. The blush on her face would grow a deeper shade of red as I thrust inside of her. She would moan, arching her back a bit as she throws her head back. Exposing her neck, I would lean down to gently nibble on the healed mate mark. She would hiss when I do that.

 

Our bodies felt so alive. The pressure that build, the promise for relief was lingering near. I relish these moments. It was such a haven for my senses. The taste of Angela. The sight of Angela. The voice of Angela. The feel of Angela. The smell of Angela. All of it was something I wanted to protect, to keep experiencing these sensations for the rest of my life. 

 

When our bodies was ripped over the edge, I knew Angela felt the same. She would cling onto me, digging her nails into my skin. Her legs tighten as my body shuddered. Her lips latch onto my shoulder. Sometimes I would feel a bit of teeth. She would whimper and sob as she felt her body experience the highest peak of pleasure. Her walls would clamp around me, sealing me inside.

 

We would stay like this on these kind of nights. Where few words were spoken and only touch was our way of communicating. She wouldn’t let go for a long while. Sometimes it would be for hours. We would just silently enjoy each other’s presence and always memorize it. We are a motivation for each other. We need each other to just keep going.

 

Sometimes it is too much to handle. Sometimes we just want to stop. With each other, it becomes bearable. We fight, not only for justice, but for each other. For a future. A future for a child. A family. A home.

**Author's Note:**

> Another addition to June Pride Oneshots~~


End file.
